


Rocket Man('s Ass)

by ambercreek95



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Clyde is a big dummy, Creek Week 2020, Dare, Day One, Day One Prompt: Tattoo/Punk, Drunken Shenanigans, First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Meet-Cute, Sharing a Bed, Tattooist!Tweek, Tattoos, confident tweek, tattoo artist - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambercreek95/pseuds/ambercreek95
Summary: CREEK WEEK 2020: DAY ONE - TATTOO/PUNKCraig loses a bet against Clyde and now has to get a tattoo of the other's choosing. They wander into the closest tattoo parlour that's open at this late hour, to find a cute, tattooed blonde standing behind the desk that's just Craig's type.Now this bet didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 25
Kudos: 77
Collections: sp creek server does creek week 2020





	Rocket Man('s Ass)

**Author's Note:**

> CREEK WEEK 2020: DAY ONE - TATTOO/PUNK
> 
> I want to say a HUGE thank you to jewboykahl and tweekscoffebean for helping me so much with this story and fo editing it for me and fixing all of my tense issues as always!!  
> Also, a big thank you to the server group! you guys have no idea how motivating you have been while also simultaneously being extremely distracting. I love you guys! hahaha
> 
> I hope you all enjoy :)

“You made a bet and I am not letting you back out now, man!”

The loud, booming voice disturbs the peace in the quiet shop and unwillingly pulls Tweek’s gaze up from his iPad Pro, where his head has been buried for the better part of an hour. He has been sketching some last minute designs to put up for next week's flash sale. 

3 obviously tipsy young men come staggering into the tattoo shop. It’s currently 11pm on a Friday night so, this is not an unusual occurrence for Tweek. Having a tattoo shop in the middle of the nightlife district does have its positives, or drawbacks depending on how you look at it. The positive being that it is easy to accumulate new clientele when your shop is easily accessible and well-known in an area frequented by younger people. The drawback being dealing with drunken dickheads coming home from a night out and deciding that getting their ex-girlfriends names tattooed across their right ass cheek is a fantastic way to win them back.

As a proud gay man, Tweek luckily doesn’t have to worry about having the names of scorned girlfriends past inked forever on his ass. Also, as a proud gay man, he can instantly appreciate the 3 course meal of attractive men that fate had delivered to his door.

One of the men is a shorter guy with a stocky, strong build and stylized messy brown hair, wearing a varsity jacket for a local college football team. He has huge brown eyes and an easy smile that makes you want to smile right back. His whole aura seems to scream  _ white-cis-straight-male  _ but that doesn’t stop Tweek from being able to appreciate his boyish good looks and easy going attitude. 

The second male is a gorgeous African American man wearing the most luxurious camel coat Tweek has ever laid eyes on and an expensive looking watch that Tweek would bet money on it costing more than his apartment. He wears trendy wire framed glasses perched on the end of his nose, which automatically makes Tweek feel like he is educated and well spoken without knowing a lick about him. His eyes sparkle with amusement as he listens to his companions argue.

The third man has to be at least 6 foot 4 with striking dark blue irises evident even in the low light of the tattoo studio. His half-hooded bedroom eyes make Tweek feel flushed and has him wondering whether his actual bedroom eyes would be the same or something else entirely. He can’t help but think that he would like to find this out for himself. His jet black hair is perfectly cut into a faded undercut and he’s wearing a leather bomber jacket over a grey NASA shirt. He also has the most fed up expression Tweek has ever seen walk through the door of his humble shop.

“I wouldn’t have made the stupid bet if I’d thought that I would lose” says the tall, raven haired man in a drawling monotone. As Tweek watches, he notices a glimmer flash in the right ear of the man. Is that an earring?

As the trio get closer, Tweek can confirm that yes, it is an earring punctured through the right ear of this gorgeous grumpy man. Tweek prays to whichever god will take pity on his poor homosexual soul that this means he was gay, and not just so far removed from the LGBTQ community that he wouldn’t even bother with the 2 second google search it takes to check which ear was culturally recognised as the “straight” ear to get pierced. 

Tweek clears his throat to draw the attention of the group from their bickering and on to him. He watches closely as those mesmerizing blue eyes land on him before widening a fraction. The hint of a blush dances across his cheeks as he averts his gaze. 

_ Thank you Gay Jesus _ , Tweek thinks, a little smug at the reaction he received.

“Can I help you, gentleman?” he says with a hint of a purr.

“Yes you can!” the boisterous brunette replies, “my friend here,” he throws his arms out to the left, presenting his friend like a magician's assistant while simultaneously nearly hitting the noriette in the balls, “would like one of your finest tattoos, please!”

“I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” the presented friend mutters to the floor. 

“Well, you did make the bet, Craig.” said the tall African American man. 

In this era of new age names like Nevaeh and Excalibur and La-a,  _ Craig _ seems so uncommon, especially for someone clearly only in their early twenties. Tweek never could wrap his brain around how someone could look at a tiny, mewling newborn babe and think to themselves “yep, he’s a Craig, alright”. 

“Well, how the fuck was I s’posed to know that  _ Clyde _ ,” Craig’s slurring speech clears just enough for him to throw out the name like it disgusts him to have to say it, “who has _ NEVER _ won a game of beer pong in his life, would slip, flinging the ball at the wall which would then rebound and miraculously land in my death cup? Please enlighten me Token on how I could have predicted that.”

“You should have had more faith in my sick-ass skills, man.” Clyde says smugly, like he planned it all along, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder.

Tweek chuckles at the display as he places a book of his available designs on the counter. He flips it open to the first page before pushing it towards his bickering clients. “So Craig,” he points at the first 2 pages, making a point to maintain eye contact. “This is probably roughly what you are looking for. These are my smallest designs, starting from seventy dollars. It then goes up from there, ranging all the way up to my bigger pieces, but you probably don’t want to end up with a chest piece and a wallet that's seven hundred dollars lighter on a drunken whim, would you, Rocket Man?” He punctuates the tease with a wink, and rejoices in the way it causes heat to spread across Craig’s cheeks. 

Clyde and Token exchange a look. Even their drunken asses have caught on to the playful flirting directed at their stoic friend. Too bad for Craig though, as Clyde values the sanctity of the bet more than he does his friend’s love life.

“Actually,” said the brunette, tearing Tweek’s gaze his way, “I get to choose the tattoo.” His mischievous smirk intending to look scheming is ruined by the fact that his eyes are swimming and unfocused, clearly a side effect of the alcohol. 

“Seriously?” Tweek asks, eyeing each of them in turn. They all nod, albeit one more sadly than the others. “That’s brave,” he says to Craig who just grimaces painfully. “Alrighty then Clyde, what will it be?”

Clyde pours over the book for a minute until he’s jamming his stubby finger aggressively at a particular design. “This one! It just has to be this! And it has to be on your ass cheek!” Tweek, Craig, and Token all lean in and take a look. 

There, sitting a centimetre from Clyde’s stubby finger, is a line-art Hello Kitty head, no bigger than a quarter.

Craig immediately groans, Token bursts out laughing and Tweek wonders if he can talk Clyde out of doing this to his friend. That idea goes down the drain almost immediately when all of Craig's pleas to change it to something else are met with a firm _ nope, no way, nuh uh bro _ .

He’ll have to try another tactic.

“Clyde, how would you feel about a slightly more hangover friendly twist?”

All three heads turn towards him. “What do you propose?” Token asks.

“Well, you did win your bet and you are right that you get to choose, but let us remember that Craig here does have to live with your decision for the rest of his life and will have to explain to his future partner why he has a Hello Kitty tattoo on his ass. If you trust me, and you  _ should  _ because I'm damn good at my job, I can give you what you want while also preserving some of Rocket Man’s dignity.”

Clyde hums for a second, weighing up his options, but before he can open his mouth to speak, he is interrupted by Craig. “I trust you.” He says, dark blue eyes locking onto Tweek’s amber ones. Tweek is oddly flattered that he would trust him despite not knowing him from a bar of soap. Craig turns back to his friend, scowl etched on his handsome face. “And I'll never speak to you again, Clyde, if you don't let…” Craig looks at the tattooed blonde behind the counter with a questioning look, realising that he never managed to get his name.

“Tweek.” 

“Right, Tweek.” the left side of Craig's mouth twitches up in a half smile and Tweek’s stomach does a flip flop in response. “If you don't let Tweek do what he wants to do.” 

Clyde’s bottom lip drops into a pout, resembling a child who has just been told to put a toy back on the shelf at Kmart. “Fine! But only because you can’t afford to stop talking to me. You’d have no friends left when Token goes back to Harvard next week.”

“I’ve still got Jimmy.”

“Jimmy’s going to be a big star someday soon and leave us all in his dust and you know it, Craigory!” Clyde’s outburst makes the other 2 drunken men laugh loudly, probably at some inside joke shared.

“Okay, so it’s decided then,” Tweek interjects. “Craig, I need you to sign this waiver for me and we also have to discuss the little matter of payment. This design will be $130”

Craig and Clyde look at eachother, clearly in their inebriated state forgetting about the fact of payment. 

“Don’t look at me dude,” Craig says, “you’re the one who wants me to get this stupid tattoo.”

“It’s going on your stupid body,” Clyde retorts with a slur, “and who do you think I am? I don’t have $130! I don’t even have a job!”

“Fellas, fella, please. Stop fighting. I’ll get this one.” Token hands over a black credit card to the tattooist. “Besides, I really want to see what Tweek here comes up with.”

“I think you’re really going to like it.” Tweek says with a grin at Craig as he swipes the credit card through, charging Token for the ink. A small, fucked up part of Tweek’s brain is feeling a bit smug that a bit of his art is going to be etched on Craig's flawless, tanned skin forever, even if it’s going to be part Hello Kitty. “Give me 15 minutes to sketch it up and then we can get started.”

A short time later, closer to 10 minutes than 15, Craig is lying face down on the tattoo bed, ready to have his drunken mistake immortalised on his right ass cheek. Tweek shows the design to Clyde and Token but Clyde refuses to let Craig see it, insisting that it is going to be a surprise. The only clue that Craig gets was that it looked “fucking sick” and that he “hopefully wouldn’t totally hate it”. Craig can feel Tweek pressing the slightly damp stencil into his skin, getting the placement perfect. He can’t help the faint blush that crosses his cheeks when he realises that Tweek’s handsome face is only a ruler’s length from his derriere. 

“Are you ready, Rocket Man?” Tweek asks teasingly.

“I think so… is it going to hurt?”

“That depends. How much did you drink tonight?”

“... I can’t remember” 

“Then it’s probably not going to hurt at all. And if it does, you might not even remember it.” Tweek replies, chuckling a bit at the tease. 

All up, the tattoo itself only takes about 40 minutes. At some point during the process, Clyde and Token end up with another beer in their hands from Tweek’s mini fridge. Craig declines as it was alcohol that got him into this horrendous situation in the first place, and Tweek says he probably shouldn’t drink while giving people something so permanent, saying that it was ‘ _ a lawsuit waiting to happen’. _

After a final few finishing touches, the tattoo is done. 

“Alright Rocket Man, I'm all finished. Do you want to get up and take a look?” Craig eases himself off the table, pants still pushed down over his ass to shuffle over to the mirror and look at the finished piece. “But go easy on me though,” Tweek locks eyes with Craig, “It’s hard to improve on perfection.” Tweek makes a very obvious show of checking out Craig’s ass before looking back at his handsome face, and giving him a flirtatious wink. Token and Clyde both share a look, eyebrows raised and smirking. They are both used to Craig’s poor people skills, the raven haired man often being described as “brash” and “rude”. Craig often had men (and women) approach him, enticed by his good looks, only to flee shortly after when they were on the receiving end of either a snarky remark or his middle finger. Neither of the boys had ever seen him interact with someone as forward and coquettish as Tweek. They are both on the edge of their seats, waiting to see how he will react.

Apparently, his innate reaction is to blush and impersonate a goldfish, opening and closing his mouth while trying desperately to come up with something to say. Craig finally finds his voice when he stutters out a small “Th-thanks”

“Anytime, handsome.” Tweek smiles, all straight white teeth and charisma.

Craig has to tear his eyes away from Tweek’s magnetic gaze to catch a glimpse of his new body art in the mirror.

There, sitting pretty on his right ass cheek, is a small line art astronaut surrounded by a few twinkling stars. To satisfy Clyde’s request, a tiny Hello Kitty head is shown through the visor of the helmet.

Craig asks the first question that comes to his mind. “How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” Tweek replies.

“How did you know I like space?”

Tweek smiles at him. “The NASA shirt.” he says, pointing at Craig's chest where the logo sits. “To be fair, I didn’t know for sure but I went out on a limb and took a guess. And I thought that even if you didn’t like space, you would probably still appreciate it more than Hello Kitty.”

Craig smiles at Tweek, feeling warmth spread through his chest, and this time not from the alcohol. “I always wanted to be an astronaut as a kid because I love space, but I had to give up on that dream when I grew too tall. I never stopped loving space though, so I’m studying astrophysics instead.”

Tweek’s mouth turns up at corners trying to stifle a grin but secretly glad that his hunch was correct. “So does that mean you like it, Rocket man?”

Craig looks back at the tiny astronaut. He’s kind of bummed that it’s on his ass and not somewhere more visible, even with the Hello Kitty twist. “I love it.”

“Me too!” Clyde interjects, effectively ruining the moment. “It’s perfect! Craig, you have to keep the Hello Kitty head forever!”

“Clyde…” Token says with a disapproving tone.

Clyde huffs, rolling his eyes. “Fine, but you have to keep it for at least a month before you can cover it up, okay?”

“Whatever Clyde.” Craig says, flipping him off in the process. 

Tweek gives Craig him some cream and aftercare instructions, and soon enough, the 3 men are heading towards the door. Craig hangs back while Token and Clyde head out the door, shooting a last wave towards Tweek before disappearing out of site.

“Uh.. thank you by the way, for satisfying Clyde and his bullshit while also giving me something realy fucking cool,” Craig says to the shorter blonde, avoiding his eyes and instead choosing to focus on the intricate tattoo sleeve running up the blonde’s left arm. 

“It was my pleasure, Rocket Man.”

Suddenly, Tweek is taking a step closer to Craig, invading his personal space (something Craig normally despises but in this case, makes his skin feel prickly in a good way). Tweek’s left hand reaches out and grabs his wrist, his right hand clasping him in a handshake while simultaneously pressing something small and flat into his palm. The blonde leans forward; so close that Craig can feel his breath ghost over his cheek.

“I hope to see you soon, Craig,” the way that Tweek is looking up at him through his eyelashes makes something primal stir in his belly, “and not just when it’s time to do the cover up. I would really like it if you called me sometime…” Tweek bites his lip, making Craig’s stomach flip, before continuing. “if you want to, that is...”

Tweek steps back, releasing his grasp on Craig’s hand. Craig looks down to see a business card with Tweek’s mobile number scrawled in the corner. He looks back up, feeling a surge of confidence through his chest. He reaches out and tucks a curl of blonde hair that had escaped Tweeks ponytail back behind his ear. “Oh, I’ll definitely be calling you. You can count on that.” 

For once, Tweek was the one left blushing and coy. “Good. I look forward to hearing from you then, Rocket Man.” 

_________________________________________________________________________

*10 years later*

“Daddy, what’s that?”

Craig turns towards his daughter, realising that the waistband of his sweatpants had slipped as he reached up into the corner cabinet, exposing the top of the astronaut he had gotten 10 years earlier.

“Um, it’s a tattoo sweetie.”

“Of what?”

“It’s an astronaut.”

“When did you get that?” 

“Lets see… I guess it would have been nearly 10 years ago now?”

“Why did you get it?” At 4, his daughter was a curious little thing, always asking a thousand questions.

At that moment, Tweek walks through the door of the kitchen, messy blonde curls pushed back from his forehead with a headband.

“What are you guys talking about?” he asks, ruffling his daughter’s hair before pressing a kiss to her crown.

“Daddy’s about to tell me the story of how he got the astronaut.” 

Tweek locks eyes with his husband, smiles spreading across both their faces. That little tattoo, now thankfully without the Hello Kitty twist, was the very thing that brought them together. It was Tweek’s favourite tattoo he had ever done.

“Did you do it, papa?”

“Yeah, I did.” Their daughter was fully aware of what Tweek did for his job, often colouring in his tattoos when Tweek got bored of playing tea party and just wanted to lie down. It was an easy distraction for her. “That was the night me and daddy met.”

Craig looks at his husband fondly, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist and plant a kiss on his cheek. Tweek turns in the circle of Craig's arms, pressing a soft kiss on his husband's lips.

“Daddy, why is it on your bottom?” Tweek has to stifle a giggle as Craig flounders for an answer to their 4 year old. 

“I think that’s a story that you should ask your Uncle Clyde to tell you when you see him next, kiddo.” 


End file.
